


There's a road ahead (and there's no way back home)

by SattaMassagana



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, I had no idea what rating to make this, Leaving Home, Maybe a little more mild than canon-typical, One Shot, young hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SattaMassagana/pseuds/SattaMassagana
Summary: Just as he’d shoved his stolen Vera Bradley makeup bag (with his nail polish, eyeliner and toothbrush) into the backpack, his door opened.Diego started to say something, stopped. “Why aren’t you dressed for dinner?” he said accusingly. “You’re supposed to be downstairs, now.”“I’m not going to dinner."





	There's a road ahead (and there's no way back home)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Leaving Home Ain't Easy" by Queen.

“Get up, Number Four!”

Klaus huffed, spitting out blood. There was a ringing in his ears that he was sure wasn’t good, and Luther had just sprung a leak in his nose. That wasn’t the one that had knocked him onto his knees, he didn’t think, though it probably had something to do with it—but he thought it was the gut-punch that had actually brought him down. And suddenly, that was very funny. He laughed, a sound from deep in his belly, spraying blood over the grass he was staring at, leaning on his hands. It was the kind of laugh he hadn’t had for weeks.

“Get _up_ , Four!” Luther snapped again, irritated.

Klaus looked up, still grinning. Luther was standing right over him now. He still called everyone by their numbers. Klaus launched himself up, moved fast enough that, for once, he got the upper hand with a headbutt to Luther’s mouth.

Luther stumbled back, and Klaus followed, kneeing him in the groin and following it with a punch to his throat. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Number Four! Those techniques are not permitted for training!” He could hear Reginald’s voice from the side of the makeshift ring. He ignored it. Luther was on his back, gasping and clutching at his throat, flopping like a landed fish.

Klaus wasn’t finished.

He lunged, managed to get one of Luther’s arms under his knee. He reached out and wrapped his hands around Luther’s head, digging his thumbs into Luther’s closed eyes.

There was a lot of noise after that.

“Klaus!” Allison screamed.

“Number Two!” Reginald bellowed.

Just as he was starting to feel the give of Luther’s eyeballs, Klaus was ripped off Luther by a strong arm around his waist. He snarled and kicked out, struggling against the hold, but Diego carried him easily, swinging him around to throw him out of the ring made of tape laid on the grass in the backyard. Klaus stumbled but kept his feet, then whirled around to lunge at Luther again. Diego caught him around the middle a second time, unyielding as a brick wall.

“Klaus! My name is _Klaus_!” he screamed, fighting Diego’s hold.

=========

Reginald called the day after that. The sun was only just starting to go down, making it an early day. Everyone was silent as they filed into the house.

It would be a cliché to say that nothing was the same since Ben died. It would also be a lie. Everything was the same, and that was what chafed Klaus, what drove him to this. Reginald gave them only the time between Ben’s death and his funeral (which didn’t amount to much—Reginald couldn’t get him into the ground fast enough) to grieve, and the very next day they were back at it.

Klaus had managed, for a little while, mostly by staying high or at least drunk. Everyone noticed before Reginald, but when he finally did, he’d put Klaus on lock-down. He couldn’t leave the house without someone by his side, and he wasn’t allowed in the parlor where Reginald kept the alcohol except during mealtime, when everyone else was there.

So here they were, three weeks after Ben’s death, filing silently into the house after training, as usual. But this time, before Klaus could escape to the relative solace of his room for their pre-meal routine, Reginald stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Nearly seventeen, Klaus was almost at a height with his father— _adopted_ father. Klaus looked up at him with narrowed eyes and his jaw set. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allison cut them a glance with a mix of concern and suspicion, but she only paused for half a second before she disappeared into her own room.

“Number Four—”

“Klaus,” he corrected.

Reginald pursed his lips. “You’re behaving crudely.”

Klaus was speechless, for a brief moment. “ _Crudely_?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re a monster.”

The ring hurt, when it connected with his lip. Klaus stumbled but kept his feet, his hand moving up reflexively to his face, but he dropped it almost as soon as his fingers touched the swollen flesh. He swiped his tongue over his lip, tasting copper, then caught Reginald’s eye and grinned viciously.

Reginald narrowed his eyes. “Mind your manners, Number Four,” he said coldly, then turned away.

Klaus was fuming as he went into his room and slammed the door. He showered, as the rules dictated they were to do before dinner, but this time he didn’t change into his uniform. Instead he put on a pair of tight, dark jeans and a tank top that barely covered his midriff, and started to pack the rest.

He didn’t own much. It wasn’t like they got a salary, but sometimes Mom bought them clothes when they went out. Still, most of what Klaus had was stolen. Reginald had programmed Mom not to let Klaus buy clothes that didn’t come from the men’s section of any store.

Everything he had that he had any interest in taking with him fit in a backpack, which was just as well, he figured. He’d likely have to go everywhere on foot.

Just as he’d shoved his stolen Vera Bradley makeup bag (with his nail polish, eyeliner and toothbrush) into the backpack, his door opened.

Diego started to say something, stopped. “Why aren’t you dressed for dinner?” he said accusingly. “You’re supposed to be downstairs, now.”

Before, Ben had always been the one to come and get him when he was being difficult. He and Diego had gotten distant, in a way that he and Ben never had. Diego didn’t approve of the drugs and the alcohol. He’d watched with a critical eye, the mornings Klaus had shown up to the breakfast table still high or hungover. He’d noticed every time, Klaus knew. Klaus had figured it out—Reginald never called him in for an experiment the night after the last one, probably too busy with notes and equations, so Klaus had figured out exactly which nights he could sneak out from the mansion to have fun. But Diego didn’t like his new friends, the ones who found Klaus interesting and charming.

_“You know, they don’t care about you,” Diego said one night, standing at the threshold of Klaus’s room as Klaus used a small mirror to put on his eyeliner._

_“Well, they ask about me,” Klaus said cheekily, not smiling only because he was applying makeup._

_“Only because th—th—they—”_

_“They want me?” Klaus pulled the eyeliner away from his face long enough to look over to Diego with a smirk._

_Diego scowled and stalked off without answering._

“I’m not going to dinner.”

Diego scoffed, dismissively. “Get dressed, Four,” he said, turning back towards the hall.

Klaus picked up his alarm clock and hurled it at the wall next to Diego’s head, shattering it. Diego turned to look at him with a mix of disbelief and affront.

“Don’t call me that,” Klaus snapped. “My name is Klaus. And I’m not going to dinner. I’m leaving. Tell dear old Daddy to carry on without me,” he sneered, turning to his bed again to grab a pair of socks he’d laid out.

“Four—Klaus, what are you talking about?” Diego said patiently, turning back fully and closing the door now, as though they were conspiring.

“I’m talking about getting the hell out of here,” Klaus said casually, sitting down on the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. "Forever."

“Why?”

Klaus barked a laugh, pausing. “Why? Diego, Jesus. Ben didn’t even die a month ago. And we’re just…we’re just going to keep training like it’s all the same?”

Diego hesitated, clearly at a loss. “That’s what happened when Five disappeared,” he pointed out.

Klaus let his shoulders slump and tilted his head. “Really, Diego?” he said softly, then sighed and shook his head, returning to tying his shoes. “We thought he was coming back.” He stood up, grabbing his backpack.

“Yeah, b-but—”

“He doesn’t care about us!” Klaus shouted, cutting Diego off. “He doesn’t give a shit about any of us! Ben _died_ and he _doesn’t care_!”

Diego stared at him, silent.

Klaus sighed. “I’ve just—I’m leaving, okay? I can’t be here anymore.” He started towards the door, but Diego moved to block him and Klaus sighed.

“Wait, Klaus, d-d---don’t go,” Diego said.

Klaus tried to move around him, and once again, Diego stopped him. “What do you _want_ , Diego? I’m leaving, I don’t care what you do.”

“I w-want you to stay!” Diego snapped.

Klaus deflated. “Diego,” he paused, moving to set his hands on Diego’s shoulders and ignoring the way it made him tense. He thought about the nights he’d spent in Diego’s room, a long time ago, and he wondered if that, ending that, had been the start of this chasm that had grown between them, day after day. Gradually, Diego had started training more, throwing his time into it like it was all he had. He started to beat Luther at sparring more regularly, until every match was a tossup until it was called. And Klaus? Klaus had started going out more, tried to distance himself from this place at every opportunity. He wondered what would have changed if…well, he didn’t know what. If it was different. “I’m not dying here. I’m not gonna get myself killed for someone who doesn’t give a damn about me. You should leave, too. All of you. But I can only do it for myself.” He pushed Diego gently, moving him out of the way of the door, and surprisingly, Diego went.

“W-w-w----wait, Klaus!” Diego said.

Klaus ignored him, walking towards the staircase.

In the end, it was simple. He walked down the stairs, walked past the rest of his siblings as they stared at him. Walked past the parlor, where Reginald was standing behind his chair, waiting for them to all file in neatly. Klaus paused long enough to smile brightly and wave his left hand with a cheery, “Goodbye!” Just as he stepped outside and pushed the door shut, he could hear Reginald calling out his name.

No, not his name.

His number.

Klaus paused only long enough to take a deep breath of the cool autumn air, then smiled brightly at the space beside him as he started down the steps. They had to scram before Pogo or Reginald followed him out. “So, Ben. Where should we go?”


End file.
